


Every Slayer Needs Her Scoobies

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU fusion, Gen, Humor, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-27
Updated: 2011-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney's aim sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Slayer Needs Her Scoobies

A haze of plaster drifted down from the ceiling in the silence.

John looked sourly at his Science project partner who was staring forlornly at the stakes embedded in the ceiling of what had been the McKay basement. “Rodney? Your aim sucks.”

Rodney ignored his comment quite studiously. They’d argued over who was going to demonstrate the weapon. John had argued that he had the better aim - although considering where the stakes had ended up, _anyone_ would have a better aim than Rodney. Rodney had argued that if someone with very little gunmanship could use the railgun to shoot a vampire, then the Slayer shouldn’t have any trouble at all.

“Uh, so,” he said to the small, slim figure who was coughing as she waved fine plaster dust away from her mouth and nose. “As you can see...it works pretty well.”

Teyla reached for the water bottle sitting by the desk and began unscrewing the top. “It certainly fires with considerable force,” she said mildly. “Whether it works against vampires...”

“You dusted that one the other week with a pencil.” Ronon commented from the doorway as Teyla took a long drink of water, and offered the bottle around.

“Exactly,” John said, pressing the advantage. “This is just a very small stake.”

Teyla eyed the modified rail gun that Rodney still held. She seemed to be calculating something in her head as she put the bottle back down on the table, then held out one hand. “May I?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose, just try not to break it, okay?”

John elbowed Rodney, even as Teyla rolled her eyes and climbed to her feet. She crossed the room, took the weapon in two hands and pivoted on her toes towards the paper sheet set up at the end of the long room - Rodney’s original target.

There were three little thunks as the minature stakes embedded themselves firmly into the corkboard behind the roughly-drawn vampire.

Another silence followed as the three boys swallowed hard. Although it was a known fact that stakes only dusted vamps when they pierced the heart, Teyla had only aimed once for the heart. The other two stakes had landed precisely in the centre of the forehead, and right between the legs.

John felt his balls twinge, saw Ronon’s legs shift, knew that Rodney’s hand had twitched to instinctively cup his groin. Teyla turned back with a faint smirk dusting her lips. “I agree, Rodney. It works quite well - at least in theory.”

“What do you mean ‘in theory’? It works _perfectly_!”

“I mean,” Teyla said patiently, “that we do not yet know for certain that it dusts vamps.”

“But it’s a good design!”

“Of course it is,” she said, patting him on the arm. “You designed it.”

“Hey, I helped!” John protested with a twinge that was not quite jealousy. Just because Rodney was the acknowledged brain of their group didn’t mean that his mind was mush.

Her mouth twitched. “Yes,” she agreed. “You did the math.” She eyed the rail gun, thoughtfully.

“So...does that mean you’ll use it?” Rodney was practically bouncing on his toes. John felt like smacking him down. Just because Teyla was willing to use it while out Slaying tonight didn’t mean she was necessarily going to permanently add it to her arsenal of weapons against the vampires, demons, and forces of darkness.

“I am willing to test it tonight if you have more ammunition. Or,” she said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling with it’s studded decorations, “if you are able to retrieve the stakes.”

They retrieved the stakes with a fair bit of grunting and pulling on Rodney’s part, some gritted teeth from John, a swift, hard yank from Ronon, and almost no effort at all from Teyla.

“Well, why didn’t you just do it yourself in the first place?”

She patted Rodney on the shoulder, but winked at John. “Because I enjoy watching you suffer, Rodney.” Then, with a quick look around the room, she asked, “Patrolling, tonight?”

“If you want us,” John said quickly.

“Eight o’clock, out in the cemetary?”

“We’ll be there.”

Her smile was brief and brilliant. “See you then.”


End file.
